Zutara Week 2017
by archergwen
Summary: A collection of the Zutara Week 2017 prompts: Fire Lady, Underwater, Steamy, Icarus, Modern Times, Soulmates, and Starlight.
1. Fire Lady

Katara wears red and gold, and feels both at home and a stranger.

She feels the same in blue, now.

She and her husband fill their rooms with trinkets, pretty baubles of all colors from all nations - gifts and tithes from dignitaries - and it is a pretty place, a pretty palace, a lovely place to wake up to and go to war from, every morning.

She is welcome and not welcome, a foreigner and stranger still, a war-hero who was there to forge this brave new world with her own blood.

That she is equally capable of using another's blood does not slip the court's notice.

Katara is not always in the court of red and gold, of course.

There are visits to other rulers, to smooth century-old wrinkles in friendship and trade. She sips tea and chats cleverly with the man who once encased her in rock candy. She smiles demurely and chats inanely with the innocent king she once saved. There is also bending to teach, respect to wring out of a man as unchanging as the ice he lives on as she neglects him to pull good from evil in the healer's hut.

She does not, as one might have expected, pass quietly into history.

Katara loves fiercely, even married into a land that values demure emotions.

She loves her husband, as married to his work as he is; her children, as destructive as they can be; and her world, as fragile and broken and wonderful as it is, and often all at once.

Her children are her most proud legacy: a future Fire Lord not concerned with his glory but concerned with his people; a Princess who would rather fight shoulder to shoulder her men, and does so in the Navy (she smiles too much when talks of fighting pirates); and a Prince who probably won't take his nose out of the ancient law books to do anything but be a pithy advisor to his elder brother.

She's always in awe of her husband, who's probably just in awe of her now that she thinks of it. He tries so hard to undo a century of wrongs. She's trying, too, but sometimes she knows what he can't quite accept: this will be a work that takes more than their lifetimes.

So she draws him close at night, kisses him soundly, and refuses to, as they say, come quietly.

Katara married Zuko on a hot summer day. The sun shined bright, but barely any sweat disturbed the happy couple. That is what happens when one marries a master waterbender, but happily everyone seems to take it as a sign of Agni's blessing. Rumor and superstitions will get a queen far.

She doesn't mind. There is a power in words she is now both slave to and master of.

That is what a Fire Lady does. She is an icon, a figurehead, a light to follow at the best of times - except for when she isn't. She still keeps her spine straight and tall, and the wheel turns and favor comes back to her favor, so she dives back into politics. She learned the game, and learned it fast even with the bitter taste that she could do more if she had been born to it.

So when her eldest finds love with a steady girl but one not used to the game, Katara sighs, and becomes a teacher again.

Her life has never been hers, not since her mother died, except for slips of time she steals or her husband steals for her. Yet, it's also still her life and she loves it.

Loves him. Loves this fire-formed land, and all this water she's brought has only seemed to make it stronger somehow.

She's left with warmth eeked into her skin and bones, not ice, her hands laced with the Fire Lord she loves.

She stares at a bill one day, one considering the passing of the Fire Lord's title to the next generation, and she sighs in an inexplicable emotion.

She is Fire Lady, and then she's not, but the itch to help is too deep in her bones, even having lived right where she could do so much and did.

Her husband tucks his arm around her, and they go to war again, just more diplomatically this time.


	2. Underwater

_"'Cause all I need  
Is the love you breathe.  
Put your lips on me  
and I can breathe_

 _underwater."_

"All I want to do, is disappear, and not be seen again."

Her hands are around his face, lifting him up. She always does that, drags him back to life when all he wants is to fade away.

"Come here, Zuko."

She always does this, pulls him from this well of sorts, and it always feels the same, her hands dripping water running like rivulets through her fingers on his chin. The kiss she presses to his lips is searing, burning, a beat of life against his cold mouth.

He could live without her - they are not codependent. The weight of his responsibility keeps him alive even if on the dark days it presses him to the ocean floor.

She is the bright fire of joy in his life, warmth, laughter, the sweeter things that need more air than the depths of water can afford. And he, he cools her rage, washes over her sorrows like a calming tide to carry them far away that she can rest easy.

They are opposites; they are two sides of a whole.

He kisses her frequently, for he is a king and kings ought to be madly in love with their fantastic, beautiful, talented wives.

When the dark days press in, threatening to overwhelm like the ocean's wave, he kisses her.

It is like taking a breath and giving one.

He sinks to the bottom, still, but it's never as deep. He sinks to the bottom with lungs full of air to carry warmth and laughter through all his days.


	3. Steamy

"My God, you're tense."

Zuko huffed. "This comes as a surprise?"

"No, Zuko, seriously, this isn't moving." Katara pressed a little harder into his shoulder muscles. "It feels like bone, almost, and bone shouldn't be there. That's it. This calls for more serious efforts."

"Can't you just heal it?"

"'Can't you just heal it?' No, Zuko, I can't just heal it because it will be back in a day. I know you. I have to instill some proper relaxation techniques in you. Come with me."

Abruptly, she shoved him to his feet and towards their baths.

One of the perks of royalty was a palatial bathroom, with one big pool in the center surrounded by decorative tile. There were plenty of vents for when things got steamy, and Katara quickly set about getting the hot water to flow so that the vents were needed.

"Get in."

"There's barely any water and I just-"

"Get. In."

Resigned, he stripped and climbed in, following her lead in taking deep breaths as he sat down. He couldn't lie, the warm room was relaxing. He knew this already, being Fire Nation, but relaxation wasn't really a luxury he could afford being the Fire Lord.

"That's ridiculous," replied Katara, and Zuko realized he'd spoken aloud. Her arms moved, bending pulling more water into the bath, almost too hot to be comfortable. "You're the Fire Lord. I think by definition you can afford all the luxury you want."

"Saying doesn't make it so."

She just made a gesture he didn't understand, likely one from the Pole he hadn't picked up. The water was at his neck now and stopped rising. "Lean your head back, and try to think of distracting things."

"Like what?"

"The summer sky, sunlight on skin, anything but stress."

"Now I'll be thinking about that."

"Fine then."

He didn't really start to relax until he felt her by his side, her head also lolling back onto the tile next to him. Her hand found his, and she laced their fingers together. After a what seemed like an eternity, she pushed at him, and he followed her lead until he was sitting in front of her, still almost submerged, while she worked at his shoulders and back again.

"I worry."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'll survive."

"So will I."

He squeezed her knee, turning to kiss her back, and for a while they pretended kisses could ease the worries of a nation and a lifetime.

And maybe, in a way, it does.


	4. Icarus

She is only a minor goddess, but still a goddess, still a dream living as human for a day, a year, a lifetime. So when she shoves her son into the world at the fateful hour of midnight, the darkest night, Skyfather Agni's face hidden, she still feels the divine spark in her son's soul is stronger than the rest.

Her mortal husband will come in the morning, they tell her. He will come and name the boy, they tell her. She nods, a tried and loyal lady-wife.

They place her son in her arms and she breathes his name, the one she's carried almost as long as him.

 _Icarus._

It is not a kind name. She wishes not to give it to him. But it is his name, and if he must bear the name of the first and last man to try to catch the sun, then so mote it be. Only they two need know, anyway. Her son is no demigod, not born like this under this dream. No, Agni's hand will just be on him a little longer, His smile a little brighter.

Perhaps he bears the name to redeem it. Alas he is the firstborn of a man who would be king, and so cannot redeem the Sages.

Or perhaps he can.

But her son does not grow to be bookish and studious. Her husband names him 'Zuko,' and the boy trails after that name, happily, for two years.

She bears a daughter.

 _Eris._

She finds she cannot deny her children their nature.

And when her blessed boy runs to her, in tears and afraid, she presses a kiss to his forehead and stalks off to find her husband. She finds him in their rooms, staring at a familiar black case.

"Zuko tells me you are to kill him, on your father's orders."

"My daughter is clever. No, my father said for the insult I am to also feel the pain of losing a favored child, and then Zuko shall be Iroh's heir, not me."

Though her eyes are mortal, the goddess sees the tiniest sliver of a bright path if she does nothing. But to walk that way would be to thread a spider's silk through the eye of a gnat. And nothing, that she cannot do.

Tenderly, she places a hand on his cheek. He sinks into her touch, and in that moment he is the bright and handsome boy she fell for, playing on a beach in her starlight.

"You will not."

"You don't love her anyway."

"I do, for I see her and love her for what she is. Fire needs the chaos, the discord, as much as it needs the warmth of the hearth. When she finds balance, then all will be will." She draws back, and his brow furrows at the coolness of his face without her touch. "I will not let either of my children die. I will not let you bear this sin." She sweeps towards the door, a rustle of red silk they will never hear again. "You will be the Fire Lord in the morning, if you wish to be."

She presses a kiss to Icarus's forehead, whispers words of love that will be blurred by sleep, and then she is gone, leaving the name Ursa behind forever.

Before her dagger sinks home, she says ou tloud the promise she made years ago. "I will be yours for a lifetime."

She will not be married to a man who stared at knives, trying to choose one to use on his daughter.

As a lifetime ends, she disappears in a sunshower, if such things were possible in the dark of the night in the Fire Lord's rooms.

She watches.

What else can a mother do?

She knows when her curse finally lands, when her son reaches for Agni's Justice and receives a fist of his father's fire.

Is this the man she loved? Is this the boy who kiss her silly under the sky for all her sister's to see? Is the one who whispered her sweet nothings and honest promises? How could she have loved him? How can her son still love him?

And Icarus leaves, sets sail not on wings of wax but in a steel ship to chase the Avatar. She does not know whether to hope he succeeds or fails. All she knows is that she is breathless with worry watching, praying, hoping he does not sink and fall as his namesake did.

She starts to rejoice as he stands with the Avatar he so fortunately found.

She recognizes the sun he's reaching after, as a bender as skilled as he is fights with him, in many ways and senses. He chases a sun that is not a sun, but a woman, bright and lovely as light on fresh-fallen snow. She challenges him, and he sees her with the sight his mother gifted him. He sees her who she is, all of it, and loves her. So he flies after his chosen sun.

This Icarus does not fall.

Her daughter does.

It is lamentable, but then, she cursed both her children. She is lucky one managed to twist it awry and to his favor. She cannot expect it of both.

She does not feel as mortals do, not about all things, but when her son is married, is a father, she feels overflowing with joy. Her son is there with his wife as she labors. He stands with her, a partner, even into the late hours. And when his lady of the waters gives him a daughter, a goddess breathes a name.

 _Kya._

And Fire Lord Zuko, her Icarus, has always listened to his mother. He looks at his Fire Lady, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

"We should name her Kya."


	5. Modern Times

He knows just enough about Katara Eclat, RNS, to be indecisive between hating her guts and wanting to throw her against a wall and make out until she likely shanked him.

Katara knows enough about Zuko Glace, PhD, to get him thrown in jail.

 _("Oh, and where'd you get your doctorate? Prison?"_

 _"And where'd you go to medical school? Mommy and Me?")_

It's not just his dirt, to be fair. He'd probably also take her brother down with him, his detective partner, who is much less into book smarts no matter how many times Zuko has rules-lawyered their way out of trouble.

Not that Zuko minds. It's Sokka's brilliant ability to read a situation and react with sound strategy that make him such a terrifyingly brilliant detective. His willingness to use his sister's in with a hospital both for backroom medical care to get back in the field faster and for warrant-less snooping.

Zuko's got half a mind to care - just because they're doing so with good intentions doesn't make it right - but he's in too deep now to fight it.

Besides, Katara seems to have the same opinion. If it weren't for that pesky desire to help people over-riding her sense of right and wrong, he actually might be able to end this flirtation with dystopian police force work.

He'll keep buying the pretty brunette nurse coffee, though. He'd bring her green tea with brown sugar - still caffeinated and way better for her - if he trusted anyone but his Uncle to make tea, and Uncle's shop rests too far away. Maybe some day he'll drag her there.

* * *

Katara knows enough about her brother's idiot genius partner to be entertained by his frustrations, which is to say, she barely knows anything.

He's rude, as abrasive as his burn scar, and way too touchy about any subject of conversation other than the weather. Fine. She can go toe to toe with pretty boys any day of the week. She's not slated to be next Head Nurse because she rolls over when pushed.

Well, except where her brother's concerned. But that's _family_. And Zuko is not family.

Well, no more family than someone can be when they spend every working hour with her brother and too much time with her. Sokka did invite him to Friendsgiving, and he brought three bottles of wine: a fancy one to have with the meal and two cheap ones to get drunk on after. And it was fun, and nice, but then the next day he and her brother were asking for confidential records again and stealing her ID when she said no.

But she knows he's reported twice as many cases of child and domestic abuse as half the force, combined.

So she can forgive him for who his father was, who he almost was.

And she'll drink the coffee he brings, and drop off the cookies he likes best - even if there's more than enough to share with everybody - to the precinct on her days off so she can knock things off his desk.

She does so like that feisty glare staring up at her.


	6. Soulmates

_(A/N: Written and posted the day I bought my wedding dress.)_

Zuko doesn't know what the words on his arm mean, and never has. He could find out now, probably; it wouldn't be too hard to get a language tutor.

Part of him doesn't want to know, though.

Part of him is still scared of his father, face a copy of cold fire's rage, declaring no son of his would be with anyone not of Fire, the superior element. His mother's soothing solution that perhaps he meets a diplomat changed nothing, and any language learning classes were forbidden other than Common.

It doesn't matter, because he understands it when he hears it, years later and free of his father.

"Näytät upealta."

He wouldn't have realized it was what is on his arm had he not been pondering that day. But this slender girl is raking her eyes over him, and her voice is almost a purr as the unfamiliar syllables drop from her tongue.

His eyebrow pops, his arms cross, and he switches into the Common he now speaks without accent.

"And what does that mean?"

Her face flickers between flirtation, surprise, hope, and back to cool flirtation as she takes a step forward.

"You're gorgeous."

Her accented voice is gorgeous as well, but it doesn't stop his hand from flickering up to his face. Her hand snaps out and catches it, and she reads the words on his arm.

"I wanted to learn, you know, become a linguist. But my father said no, and then couldn't find a teacher."

"It's a particular dialect from the Southern Water Tribe. I could teach you?"

"I would like that, very much."


	7. Starlight

Lit by the stars, she seems to glow.

Zuko leans over, the picnic blanket wrinkling under his efforts, and presses a kiss to her collarbone. Her eyelashes flutter open so delightfully.

They've worked so hard for this, _this_ , peace and quiet and the calm of the night sky above them. The Avatar can fight for the whole world; he can afford to be so magnanimous.

Zuko doesn't care to be so, kissing Katara full on the mouth with only the stars as other witnesses. She is the only drive he needs, her and warm nights beneath constellations he knows as easily as breathing.

They have earned this, _this_ , easy nights and happily sharing breaths as the sky marches on above them. They deposed a tyrant who couldn't be a good father if his life depended on it. They fought through personal emotional complications. They fought each other.

And now Zuko lays next to Katara on a grassy hill overlooking the caldera he rules, and he kisses her until she is as pliable as the element she bends.

Their happiness is this, _this,_ making their corner of the world better, bit by bit and day by day, until the frustration grows and they steal away in the night to keep their love burning as vibrantly as the element that Zuko bends.

Their joy is this, _this_ , the dew-soaked grass, an old picnic blanket, and a sky full of starlight.


End file.
